Remember retail stores? Once upon a time stores had personality. They weren’t as sleek or efficient but they had character. The people who helped you weren’t called sales associates they didn’t wear matching shirts and matching smiles; they were real like you. Sometimes even now we get lucky. We stumble inside a real store the type with piles of merchandise still blocking the aisles whiffs of the past still emanating from the shelves decorated by personal idiosyncrasy rather than contemporary color schemes. And maybe there is a child — the proprietor’s son or daughter — sitting contentedly on a stool soaking in the special store ambience. Ferster Hats a Jerusalem attraction on a block filled with landmarks has it all: the quirks the smells the history and personalities and flavor of the neighborhood. And the child on a stool? He’s there too though he’s got a gray beard and his own grandchildren work there now. Reb Itche Meir Ferster has never really left.